


Like No One's Watching

by rivlee



Series: The Long Way Home [11]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 05:32:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivlee/pseuds/rivlee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small moment outside Damascus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like No One's Watching

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steorie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steorie/gifts).



> A short drabble for Steorie.

There was a festival in the city, the sound of horns and drums spilling out to their settlement outside of Damascus. It was enough to distract the most disciplined among them. Even Tanith put aside the processing of drying herbs to look towards the road. Agron was struggling to hold Arieh back as he nearly jumped the distance from Agron’s arms to the ground, eager to see the spectacle of a procession. He wasn’t the only one so excited; Donar was already chasing after Elissa and Thais. 

Agron laughed softly to himself before placing Arieh on his shoulders. “You can see it now, little cub. No more escaping.”

Agron got a foot to his ear for the trouble; it was an act he’d only allow from Arieh. He sighed in delight when a pair of familiar arms slipped around his waist. 

“Kyros says it’s to celebrate the coming of autumn,” Nasir murmured. He kissed Agron’s shoulder before doing something that made Arieh laugh in delight. “A welcome excuse for frivolity and the showing of a ruler’s wealth among his citizens. They can afford a day of celebration because he orders it.”

No matter their place in the world, some things would never change. “Let us join the others before we are all left behind,” Agron said. 

Camilla, Naevia, and Seti had set out to sell some of Tanith’s herbs earlier in the day and acquire supplies for their new home and would surely be caught in the pressing crowd. They did not often venture in the city, but their home required it. The owner was an old friend of Kyros, who spoke the basics of Latin in a thick accent. He left them to fix the beams and roofs on their own. It felt good to see result formed by his own hand again. Agron never realized how much he mourned the loss of creation when it was entrenched in the taking of life. Even Agron, always raised to be a warrior, recoiled in horror sometimes at the amount of lives he’d ended. He couldn’t even recall the actual count.

“Don’t dwell,” Nasir chastised. He rested his lips again on the spot Agron knew bore the ragged scar of an axe wound sewn closed and re-opened many times. It was a perfect reminder in his own flesh of all he, and those he loved and now counted as family, had suffered and survived over the past three years. 

_Don’t dwell_. The words echoed in Agron’s head; it was a mantra of Nasir’s, often uttered under his breath once they took to life at sea. Rarely was it directed at Agron. He understood that the words were meant more for Nasir’s own heart than his. He understood it was a way for Nasir to cope with his own actions. It warmed Agron to have them bestowed upon him; to know that Nasir _wanted_ to share such blessings. 

“Give me the boy,” Tanith said. She held her hands out to Arieh, who was already launching himself off Agron’s shoulder to grasp at the golden beads in Tanith’s hair. 

“So much for loyalty,” Agron muttered as he palmed the back of Arieh’s head. His fingers tugged on one of the soft curls before he stepped back. “We will join you soon.”

“No you won’t,” Tanith said with a knowing smile.

Nasir led Agron away from the house, the road, and the responsibilities. They took to the grass paths, far from the packed dirt of the main road. Agron could not figure why Nasir was so insistent on pulling him away from the others, but he did not question. Their rare time alone would never be enough. 

The music could still be heard from this spot with faint strains carrying on the wind. Nasir stopped and turned to Agron, fingers resting in a familiar hold on Agron’s wrist. 

“We pause?” Agron questioned.

Nasir nodded. He moved Agron’s hands to settle on the strong bones of Nasir’s hips. “Did you not once swear that your people had the best dances to go with drum beats?”

Agron had, but he had been particularly drunk that night and boasting with Donar. Those were war dances though, that required shield and knife to show skill. It was far from this intimate movement Nasir now suggested, even farther from the small turns they’d all taken together on ships decks and wooden floors. 

Agron was starting to learn that this new life required a certain form of faith he’d never found comfortable. He had never embraced the unknown, the uncertain, and the fantastical. He’d always been a practical man, made grim by the events in his life. Perhaps the salt of the sea had finally seeped into his brain, or the rediscovery of childhood’s whimsy from watching the babes had taken hold, but Agron felt a lightness in him now. He still had days when cares and memories weighed him down, but breathing had become easier. 

He would take this moment on that uncertain faith. He rested his forehead against Nasir’s own, closed his eyes, and let him lead, blindly following to whatever path they stumbled upon.


End file.
